


Love is a Four Letter Word

by allimarie_xf



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Canon Divergent, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Season/Series 02, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Tropes, Undercover as a Couple, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but the delicious and nutritious kind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-21 07:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17638835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allimarie_xf/pseuds/allimarie_xf
Summary: A 5+1 story: Five times Oliver accidentally says "I love you" to Felicity, and one time when he says it on purpose. Set in season 2.5 (in the summer post-2x23, and canon divergent from there).





	1. May 2014

_May 2014_

 

“Felicity…”

“Yeah, yeah, hold on just a second!”

“We don’t have a second!” Oliver’s voice was gruff and urgent.

Felicity held her breath as her fingers flew over the keyboard, as if she could pause the flow of time until she unlocked the bay door. After a few more keystrokes, the magnetic seal released and she heard Oliver’s tiny sigh of relief over the comms as he and Roy ducked through the door just before 5 machine-gun-wielding goons opened fire in the hallway.

“Felicity, can you -”

“Got it!” Resealing the door, once she had hacked its locking mechanism, took no effort at all. “That should buy you some time. Looks like Derekson’s heading toward the loading docks. Dig, can you cut him off?”

“I am trying…” Felicity switched her display so she could watch the chase from her team’s body camera feeds. After a moment, it was clear that John wasn’t going to be able to catch up.

“He’s getting on a boat.”

“Dammit.” John sounded discouraged and winded. “I lost him.”

“Hold on.” Oliver’s voice was distracted, a clear indication that he was entirely focused on his task. Felicity watched as he vaulted onto a shipping container, leaving Roy and Dig on the pavement below. He shot a grappling arrow and pulled himself onto a rooftop, running across a series of buildings that angled toward the boat’s location as its engines roared to life.

After a second’s mental calculation, Felicity knew it wasn’t going to be enough. Derekson’s head start meant that his boat would be out of range by the time Oliver made it to the cut-off point, even with the help of another grappling arrow. As Oliver began to slow down, the same realization clearly occurring to him as well, she had an idea. If she could just…

Oliver’s heavy breathing sounded over the comms as he slowed to a stop, watching the boat as it began to pull away from the dock. “That’s it, it’s too late. He got away.” He jumped down from the building as John and Roy caught up with him, and the three of them watched as Derekson made his escape.

“It’s all right, Oliver. We managed to put a stop to his operation, and if he ever comes back to Starling, we’ll be ready.”

Felicity, focused on her plan, was only half listening to John’s attempt at reassurance and the 30 seconds of dejected silence that followed his words.

Roy, the newest member of their team and consequently the least acquainted with failure, sounded bitter. “Sure, except he still has money and connections that we don’t know about, since we never managed a face-to-face, and his alias is a dead end….”

“Wait.” Of the three, Oliver was the only one whose attention had never shifted from the departing vessel. “It’s coming back.”

_“What?”_

“Felicity…?”

Felicity smiled, pleased that her plan had worked. “I hacked the boat’s GPS and replotted its course. It should be returning to the dock in just a minute. You should probably be ready to grab Derekson when he attempts to make a run for it.”

Felicity listened to the appreciative silence that followed her words, knowing without seeing their faces that Oliver and Dig wore matching expressions of pride.

“Oh, Felicity.” Oliver’s whispered tone conveyed wonder and admiration, “I love you.”

Felicity’s stomach swooped in reaction to the words as a dead silence fell over the group. _It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s just thanking you._ But it was not like Oliver to thank her outright, let alone in terms as personal as that, and her traitorous brain skipped backwards to a few weeks ago when Oliver had whispered those same words to her in a darkened mansion. The almost involuntary conviction in his eyes that she had tried to forget, that she would have forgotten if he had been able to deny it when she’d stood on the shores of Lian Yu and given him the chance. But he hadn’t denied it, he hadn’t said that he didn’t love her, and something about the almost unconscious way the words again slipped from his lips had her wondering, again, if he maybe he meant it.

That, and the resulting hyper-focused silence that was growing more awkward as the seconds slipped by.

Not knowing how to gracefully reply, Felicity’s defense mechanisms kicked in instead. “Uh, yeah. Derekson’s almost within distance, so you should all get ready to take him down.”

After a beat, John latched on to her redirection, replying, “Copy that,” and Felicity breathed a sigh of relief as the team’s focus shifted away from her and Oliver.

 

* * *

 

Forty-five minutes and one bad guy delivered to the cops later, Felicity was trying not to think of Oliver’s words as her team made their way back to the Foundry. It didn’t mean anything. Oliver was just caught up in his appreciation for what she’d done, which, given the fact that she’d completely saved the day, was understandable. And yeah, it wasn’t exactly typical for him to express his gratitude in words, but ever since they’d taken down Slade, he’d sort of...changed.

He’d loosened up a bit. It wasn’t that he wasn’t still intense, focused, and serious. He was just slightly less so.

Her thoughts wandered back to their trip to Lian Yu a few weeks ago. On the flight out, Oliver had mostly left her and Dig alone, choosing instead to stay close to Slade and the team of ARGUS escorts. But after they’d delivered Slade to his prison, it was as if Oliver had left more than a crazed super-villain behind him on the island. It was as if he had left a layer of his guard there, too.

On the ARGUS charter from mainland China back to the U.S., he’d sat next to her the whole way. They hadn’t talked much - for one thing they’d both been beyond exhausted, but more than that, there didn’t seem to be a need for words. She’d fallen asleep against his shoulder, waking up hours later with his arm around her and a blanket covering them both, his chest rising and falling evenly under her ear. She’d looked up into his face and found him asleep, his lips turned up slightly in an expression approaching peace.

The sound of boots on metal stairs jolted Felicity out of her memories, and she looked up to find Dig’s eyes already on her. She felt her stomach drop as she read the question in his eyes: _you okay?_ It meant he wasn’t going to gloss over Oliver’s use of the L-word. She gave a tiny nod, hoping that he would let it drop before Oliver picked up on their wordless communication. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel obligated to discuss it with her.

But as Oliver loitered around her workstation while Roy and John hastily got ready to leave for the night, Felicity knew she wasn’t going to be able to escape home without having that conversation with Oliver.

She sighed as she watched Roy, closely followed by John, disappear up the stairs, feeling Oliver’s eyes on her. As soon as she heard the door latch closed, she swiveled her chair around to meet his gaze.

For once, he seemed uncertain.

Felicity tilted her head, simultaneously inviting him to speak and making it clear that she wouldn’t be the first to break the silence.

Oliver heaved a sigh and looked down, biting his lip. “Felicity, I….” He raised his head, and Felicity’s heart squeezed a little at his small, rare smile. “I just wanted to say thank you. For what you did tonight.” He took a step toward her chair, so close that Felicity had to crane her neck a little just to continue looking at him. “We wouldn’t have caught Derekson if you hadn’t…” he trailed off, shaking his head in wonder.

Felicity smiled. “Hacked a satellite and rerouted a boat? No problem.” She stood up, needing to relieve her neck, but she hadn’t calculated just how close to her chair he’d been standing. His blue, blue eyes were suddenly very near, and she heard his tiny indrawn breath.

He was nodding, his eyes shifting between hers for a long moment, clearly wanting to say more. But when he placed his fingers lightly on her bicep, he only repeated, “Thank you.”

Felicity felt herself flush in reaction, but he didn’t seem to notice. She shrugged. “What are friends for?”

Oliver’s hand drifted down her arm, catching her fingers and squeezing them. Felicity waited for him to drop her hand, but instead he stood there, his smile deepening minutely as he watched her. He seemed to be waiting for something more from her.

Acting on instinct, she reached up with her other hand and laid it on his cheek, a gesture more intimate than she’d ever dared before. “You’re welcome, Oliver.” His lips turned up further, making her bold, and she stroked her thumb over his cheek before stepping back. He let go of her hand easily as she moved to shut down her computers.  

A minute later, purse in hand, she turned back to find him standing in the same spot, watching her with a quiet smile on his face. “I’m gonna head out. You coming too?”

“Yeah, in a minute.”

“Okay, goodnight.” She turned toward the stairs, feeling his eyes on her.

Just before she unlocked the Foundry door, she heard his voice drift up the stairs. “Goodnight, Felicity.” His tone was softer, more unguarded than it would have been only a few weeks earlier.

And she thought again about how he had changed since they’d left Lian Yu, about the new sense of peace that seemed to have settled over him. Only this time, she let herself entertain the possibility that maybe the change was about more than just Slade.


	2. June 2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka the Undercover as a Couple! trope ^_^

_**June 2014** _

 

“He likes blondes.”

“Felicity, no.”

“Short, petite blondes, if you can believe it!”

_“No.”_

“I’m exactly his type, Oliver.”

“Absolutely _not.”_

“Who knew I was anyone’s type?” she mused. “Short and not exactly leggy, wow. Turns out I’ve just been looking for Mr. Right in all the wrong places.”

 _“No,_ Felicity.”

“He’s kinda handsome, too. Apparently I should do more socializing among the Mafia.”

_“Felicity!”_

Felicity turned her head, meeting Oliver’s intense, unamused gaze. “What?”

“Just stop.” He was leaning down into her space and he gave his head a single, firm shake. “This is not happening.”

“Oliver, come on.” She turned further toward him and pushed her chair away from her desk, forcing him to take a step back. “You said yourself we need to get more information on the Luciano family. We’ve spent weeks trying to learn about their Starling City operations, and, to my _everlasting shame and disgust,_ all I’ve managed to learn is the name of one of the local capos and the fact that he’ll be attending Martin Alistair Nash _“the third’s”_ Starling City Regatta gala. That is, if his Facebook RSVP can be trusted.”

Oliver rolled his eyes, which only provoked her further, so she stood up, nearly chest to chest with him. He watched her with narrowed eyes, not giving an inch.

“But _you,”_ she jabbed him with her index finger to emphasize her point, “can _confirm_ his RSVP at the same time you get in touch with your old prep school buddy Martin and secure us an invitation.”

“Felicity, it’s a terrible idea.”

“Excuse me? What is so terrible about me slipping a little tech into a man’s phone while at a very public party? Especially given that we have no other leads?”

“The part where it requires you to put yourself directly in the sights of a _high-ranking mobster.”_ He shook his head again. “We’ll find another way.”

“Oliver. It’s a huge event with tons of media. And you will be right there. I won’t be in any danger. What part of that even has you worried?”

“The part where his attention on you might last longer than the party, Felicity.” His voice dropped as he leaned down and placed his hands on her shoulders. “You said it yourself: you’re his type.” Felicity watched as his eyes swept down her body before returning to fix on her with intensity. “If he sees you, he’s going to want you. And men like that are used to getting what they want.”

Felicity’s heart was beating rapidly as his earnest blue eyes shifted between hers. She could feel the concern radiating off of him, and more, a slightly desperate edge that suggested a deeper, unspoken source of his fear. She returned his gaze, breathing shallowly and barely blinking, letting a shared awareness of that nameless emotion take shape between them, but refusing to let it be a factor in her decision. “This is a good plan, Oliver. And it’s our only plan. I’ll be fine.”

 

* * *

 

Felicity stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror, running her hands down her dress to smooth out non-existent wrinkles.

She had to admit that red was her color. It also seemed to be a favorite of Joseph Ciccone, the capo whose eye she needed to catch tonight. She turned slowly in front of the mirror, trying to look at her appearance objectively. The body-hugging halter had a very low back and a long slit up the side of the skirt; a classic look with just the right amount of boldness, she thought. She’d finished the look with a pair of strappy 3-inch heels and a carefully careless up-do.

“Okay.” She breathed out and then lifted her left leg in approximation of taking a step, admiring her exposed thigh. “Never thought I’d be this thankful for John’s kickboxing sessions.”

Her phone vibrated on the dresser, making her jump.

_ <We’re outside.> _

Felicity took a deep breath and let it out, trying to convince herself that her nerves were about the mission, rather than the prospect of facing Oliver in this dress. Especially since he’d been noticeably abrupt with her for the past several days, ever since Dig had sided with her regarding the Regatta Gala plan.

She gathered her clutch and headed to meet Oliver and John in the limo outside, but when she opened her front door she found Oliver standing on the step with his hand raised, about to knock.

“Oh.”

“Hi.”

“Hi. I was just - gonna...you didn’t need to come up here. John texted me.”

“Yeah, I know.” He swallowed, bobbing his head. “But I wanted to give you this, and I just thought it would be easier to do it not...in the car.” He was gesturing vaguely with a wide, flat, rectangular case in his hand.

She met his unusually hesitant gaze with a raised eyebrow. “What is that?” She spoke cautiously, because a certain scene from _Pretty Woman_ was flashing through her mind but she didn’t want to jump to any conclusions.

“Oh, it’s just,” his face split into a grin - with _teeth_ , she noted - as he opened the box, “some stuff from my family’s vault.”

Yep, it was diamonds. Of course it was diamonds. A delicately woven princess necklace with a matching pair of diamond drop earrings, to be exact. “Tell me again how you’re poor now?”

She looked up at his surprised laugh, only slightly embarrassed that she’d let the thought slip out.

“My family’s assets are...maybe slightly more diversified than I might have led you to believe. ‘Poor’ is probably bit of an exaggeration.”

“Tell me about it.” The fact was, the idea of wearing jewels from the Queen family vault made her feel a little flustered, in a way she didn’t particularly feel like examining. She hid her discomfort by plucking the earrings from the tray and quickly putting them on with as little ceremony as possible. She reached for the necklace a little more hesitantly, daunted despite her intentions, but Oliver continued to hold the box toward her as if he were simply offering her his fries at Big Belly. She lifted the necklace out of the case, surprised (though she shouldn’t have been) at its hefty weight, placing it around her neck and fumbling blindly with the clasp.

“Oh, here, let me.” Oliver dropped the case on top of a stack of unsorted mail and circled around behind her, taking the ends of the necklace from her fingers.

Felicity closed her eyes as his fingertips brushed over the hypersensitive skin of her neck. There was no way this scene from a movie was actually happening to her in real life. On the other hand…”I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve ever done this.” Oliver’s fingers paused in their work. “Me wearing the Queen family jewels, I mean. As your date. Posing as your date, that is. Undercover.” She felt his hands resume their delicate work as she laughed self-consciously. “I just mean, working as the assistant and crime-fighting partner of a dashing billionaire, you’d think this would have come up before now.”

She heard the click of the clasp as Oliver successfully fastened the necklace, and she waited for him to step back and release her, but instead she felt his thumbs stroke her neck, sending an involuntary shiver through her body. She stood frozen, waiting, as he paused with his fingers on her skin, and then he slid his hands along her shoulders and down her arms, leaning over her shoulder so that his chest was pressing into her back. “You look beautiful.” His voice was low and she felt his lips just barely brush her ear as he spoke.

She closed her eyes and leaned slightly back into him, enjoying his solid warmth for just a moment before catching herself. She was honest enough with herself to know how she felt about him, and as cautious with her hopes as she tried to be, she couldn’t help but think lately that he might feel the same. But if anything really _was_ going on between them, she was determined to let him lead. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to stay in step. “How would you know?” she challenged. “You didn’t even look at me.”

She waited for him to respond, acutely aware of the way his chest expanded against her back as he inhaled, and the whisper of his breath against her neck as he exhaled, before he dropped his hands and stepped around to face her. She watched as he dragged his gaze up her body before meeting her eyes archly. “I looked.”

Felicity blinked. “Oliver -” Okay so maybe she wasn’t so great at this flirting game.

But Oliver only tilted his head toward the door as his eyes sparked with something both playful and intense. “Should we go to this party?”

Felicity nodded mutely, letting Oliver take her hand and tug her out of the apartment.

After Oliver handed her into the car, he went around to the other side as John greeted her. She kept her eyes forward as Oliver opened the door and slipped into the backseat next to her, but she couldn’t help turning to look at him as Dig put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. He met her eyes with a barely-there smile before facing forward, but he laid his hand on the seat between them and his fingers ended up resting, almost casually, against her leg.

They rode in silence for several minutes before John began asking about possible next steps once they’d successfully gathered intel from Ciccone’s phone. It was mainly idle talk, so Felicity let her mind drift as Oliver carried the conversation until a sudden expectant silence suggested that they were waiting for her to respond. “Huh?”

John repeated the question. “I asked if you’re good on the plan?”

“Yep.” She suppressed a wave of annoyance, knowing that, as simple as a mission may be, it was customary that they confirm the details as a team beforehand. Even if, in this case, it felt like unnecessary overprotectiveness on both Oliver and Dig’s parts. “Oliver and I go in there, catch Ciccone’s attention, and then have a conspicuous argument in front of him. I’ll storm off in his general direction and do whatever I need to in order to make sure he comes over to comfort me, and when I go to put my number in his phone, I’ll install my hardware. Easy.”

As she listed off the steps of the plan, she became aware of a growing tension in the curl of Oliver’s fingers against her thigh. She turned her head, meeting his gaze squarely. “Isn’t that the plan?”

He averted his gaze, and her anger began to rise before he even spoke. “Felicity -”

“Is that, or is that not the plan that we decided on?”

“It is. I just don’t like the idea of you being alone with him.”

Felicity scoffed in disbelief. “We’ve been over this, Oliver. I won’t be alone. I won’t go anywhere out of the public eye with him.”

“Not - that’s not what I meant, Felicity. I just don’t like him _thinking_ that you’re alone. That you’re, you know, _available._ Men like that tend to regard women in relationships as untouchable, out of respect for their partners, if you know what I mean. But single women….” He trailed off, his eyes silently pleading with her to understand.

But Felicity was not interested in coming to any silent agreements with him, not about the mission. If he was going to treat her like a weaker member of the team, as needing special protection, at the very least she was going to force him to admit it out loud. “Yeah, thanks for the lesson in misogyny, Oliver, which, it turns out, is a habit of thinking _not restricted to the Mafia.”_ She glared at him pointedly. “But short of the two of us approaching him as a couple, I don’t see how else I can get into his phone. And nothing I dug up on this guy suggests he’s a swinger, so.” She shrugged. “I’m just going to have to make myself _available_ to him.” She chose her words deliberately, to provoke him.

Oliver sighed and stared moodily out his window, but his brooding was cut short by Diggle. “We’re here.”

As soon as the car rolled to a stop, Felicity opened her door and hopped out, not caring how many photographers captured her lapse in propriety or the amount of leg she probably flashed as she struggled out of the car on her own. None of them knew who she was, anyway. She waited with crossed arms as Oliver made his way toward her.

When he offered his arm, she grudgingly took it, knowing she was skating right up to the edge of pettiness. She took a deep, cleansing breath in an effort to clear her mind and refocus on the mission.

As Oliver led her up a wide flight of shallow stairs, he leaned down so his lips were close to her ear. “I’m sorry, Felicity. It’s a good plan, and I know you can handle yourself. I just,” she felt his arm lift under hers as he shrugged. “It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s him.”

“Oliver -” she began to argue, again, but anger had drained out of her voice.

“No, Felicity, you’re right. And I _am_ going to be right here, and I would never, _ever_ let anything happen to you.”

He tightened his elbow, pulling her closer into his body, and Felicity didn’t know if it was that or his intense promise that sent a shiver of heat through her body.

 

* * *

 

It only took about twenty minutes for them to locate Ciccone among the sprawling party. Felicity spotted him first, and pointed him out to Oliver through the crowd. He was hanging out in a ballroom downing champagne with (surprise!) a blonde on his arm, watching the dancers, and at the sight of him Felicity felt a small wave of disappointment.

The truth was, she was having fun. After she’d let go of her irritation over Oliver’s protectiveness (and his apology had helped with that), she’d begun to let herself enjoy the party. It wasn’t just the extremely fancy hors d’oeuvres, or the beautifully landscaped gardens, or the appreciative glances she was getting from men and women alike. It was the fact that Oliver was leading her around, playfully whispering secrets about other guests in her ear and completely ignoring all the attention that was being heaped on him by every woman that laid eyes on him. It was the light but constant way he was touching her, his arm around her shoulder, his fingers on her arm or interlaced with hers. The way his eyes kept meeting hers with that barely perceptible smile that fell away whenever anyone else approached them.

And the attention was having an effect on her, so that by the time she spotted their target, Felicity was practically buzzing with a low-level lust that made caring about the mission very difficult.

Except for the fact that Ciccone was watching the dancers, and she needed him to notice her. She looked up at Oliver, watching him assess the mobster and waiting for him to meet her expectant gaze.

Eventually, his thoughtful eyes drifted down to her, and she smiled. “You know what this means, right?”

His brow furrowed immediately. “No…. What?”

She held his eyes and swayed against him, pleased when his arms closed around her instinctively. She lifted her eyebrow challengingly. “We’re going to have to dance.”

She watched carefully as several emotions washed over his face until his expression finally settled into wary amusement. “Felicity, I don’t dance….”

She reached up to wind her arms around his neck, slowly and deliberately, noting that his wariness didn’t prevent him from squeezing her body more closely against his in response. “We have to catch his attention, Oliver. His attention’s on the dance floor.”

A small, nervous grin broke over his face. “But I _really_ do not dance.” He stared down at her and she held his gaze, waiting for him to do something, either pull her toward the dance floor or push her away or kiss her, but instead he continued to look down at her as if he were waiting for a sign.

She stretched toward him, lifting slightly on her toes and lowering her voice so that he was forced to duck his head closer to hers in order to hear her words. “Oliver, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but we’re practically dancing right now. Hell, do you remember that Queen Consolidated party you threw, the one where you invited Barry for me?” She felt his body stiffen slightly at the reminder of her comatose friend, but she refused to be distracted from the moment by any reminders of their tragedy-littered history. She placed light fingertips on his cheek, making sure she had his full attention. “I danced with him at that party, but what he and I did that night could hardly compare to this.”

She watched as some strong emotion flashed through his eyes, but before she had time to assess it, he was pulling her onto the dance floor.

Somewhere in the middle of the crowd he stopped, drawing her wordlessly back into his arms, and for several minutes she closed her eyes and swayed with him, her heart thumping against his chest and his lips pressed against her hair, and neither one of them spoke about the mission, or about anything at all. She forced herself not to think about what any of it meant, choosing instead to focus on the way he smelled, the feeling of his hands on her hips, the thump of his heart against her ear. The way she fit against him, like nothing she had ever felt before.

When the song ended she felt him take a deep breath, and she pulled a little away from his body, not breaking their embrace but physically agreeing with him that it was time for them to refocus on their mission. She looked up to find his eyes on her, and the look he was giving her matched her own: unguarded but cleared of deep emotions. She nodded at him, answering his silent _ready?_ that didn’t need to be voiced.

He led her to the edge of the dance floor, in full view of Ciccone, and Felicity was taken completely by surprise when, without warning, he started moving her gently through a series of fancy yet easy-to-follow dance steps and turns. It turned out he was a natural leader on the dance floor.

“I thought you said you couldn’t dance?” she whisper-shouted at him at one point when he drew her near.

He spun her under his arm so that her back was momentarily pressed against his chest, and he put his lips to her ear. “I said I _don’t_ dance, not that I can’t.” And he twirled her away before she could respond, but not before she detected the smirk in his voice.

The next time she was in range, she had another question. “If you don’t like to dance, why are you suddenly breaking out the fancy moves?”

He caught her at the waist and lifted her off the ground as he changed direction, causing an involuntary little yelp to escape from her lips. When her feet were back on solid earth she glared at him, but he only smiled, clearly enjoying her astonishment. “Because you said we needed to be sure we had his attention.”

Understanding dawned on her face, and she bit her lip to keep from grinning. “I’m impressed.”

“At my dancing ability, or my plan?” He spun her once, quickly, before pulling her tight against his body just as the song ended on a crescendo. He held her in the silence that followed, his chest rising and falling between them.

“Both.”

She watched a smile spread over his face as his eyes dropped to her lips, and for a moment she was sure he was going to kiss her, only he didn’t.

His eyes were sparkling mischievously when he looked back at her, but he only pulled her into another, less-vigorous, dance. “I think it worked.”

“Hmm?”

“He’s watching us.” Oliver turned her so that she could catch sight of their target. “Don’t look directly at him.”

From the corner of her eye Felicity noted that Oliver was right. There was no longer any sign of the mobster’s blonde companion, and his eyes were glued to them, or rather, more specifically, to _her._ His gaze was intent, assessing, and she shuddered before she could stop herself.

Oliver held her tighter in reaction, and as much as she appreciated it, it also reminded her of his overprotectiveness and their earlier argument.

He was quiet for another minute as they simply danced. The truth was, she didn’t particularly feel like leaving the comforting space of his arms, but after another minute, she resigned herself to the fact that she needed to get this over with. “Is he still watching?”

“Yep.” He said it so quickly that Felicity immediately knew he’d been observing the man closely.

“I guess that means it’s time for us to fight.”

“Felicity….” His tone was reluctant.

“Yes…?” Her hackles raised at his predictable hesitation.

“I’ve been watching Ciccone, and -”

“Oliver, I swear to god…!”

“No, listen, I’ve been thinking.”

She pushed against his chest, forcing him to let her put significant space between their bodies so she could look him sternly in the eyes. “Is this you abiding by the plan and picking a fake fight with me, or is this you starting a real fight by not sticking to the plan? It’s one or the other, Oliver, your choice.”

His fingers tightened on her shoulders. “Just hear me out, please.”

His eyes looked slightly panicked as they shifted between hers, and Felicity sighed, taking pity on him but annoyed with herself for doing so. “Okay, what?” She peeked at Ciccone out of the corner of her eye, and he was clearly eagerly watching their little drama unfold.

Felicity started swaying, urging Oliver to remember that they were supposed to be dancing, but when he tried to pull her against his body, she resisted. “Tell me your ‘plan.’” She managed not to roll her eyes at the word, but only just barely.

“Okay.” He took a deep breath and exhaled it before speaking. “My plan is that we leave here now and find another way to find out what Ciccone knows.”

Felicity’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “Are you actually serious right now?”

“Felicity, do you see the way he’s looking at you? He’s practically drooling and I really don’t want to check but I’m pretty sure he has an erection.” He cupped her chin with slightly shaky fingers. “I am one hundred percent positive that if you go over there right now, he’s going to put his hands on you.”

They’d stopped dancing again and Felicity was caught up in the dark, swirling intensity of his eyes. Her breaths were coming in shallow, rapid pants and she honestly didn’t know if she was angry, touched, or turned on by his concern. The only thing she knew for sure was that she had a plan. A good plan. A plan she was going to stick to.

She shoved back from him, shaking his hands from her arms as she spun away in the same basic direction as Joseph Ciccone. After several strides she turned to be sure Oliver wasn’t following her, but he was still standing on the dance floor where she’d left him, a stricken look on his face. Her heart turned over at the sight of him, but she refused to be drawn from her purpose, so she got in line for the bar next to where the mobster was standing.

Felicity had planned to put on a show of pacing around in Ciccone’s vicinity, but that proved unnecessary. He moved in on her even before she made it to the front of the drinks line.

“Hi. I’m Joe.”

The first thing she noticed about Joe was that he had an entirely different concept of personal space than she did, but Felicity was feeling angry and reckless so she stepped even closer to him and smiled. “Felicity.”

She hadn’t offered it, but he took her hand and held it with one hand while his other hand stroked up her arm in a gesture that she assumed was meant to be seductive. It was revolting, but a small part of her was glad for the opportunity to demonstrate to Oliver that she could handle it. “Felicity. That’s a beautiful name. And if you don’t mind me saying so, that dress is much too beautiful to be wasted on that guy you were with.” Joseph Ciccone’s teeth were very white, she discovered.

Felicity smiled, resisting the urge to turn her head to locate Oliver. As absolutely certain as she was that he would never have taken his eyes off her, she was just as certain that he would have managed to make himself invisible, even to her. Instead, she stroked the fabric over her hip with her free hand, immediately drawing Ciccone’s eyes to the long slit up the side of her dress and the expanse of leg it revealed. She wasn’t even sure why she did it. “Thanks.”

The line cleared ahead of them and Felicity stepped up to order her drink, but before she could speak, Ciccone ordered for her. “I’ll have a Johnny Walker Black, neat, and the lady’ll have a martini, dry, extra olive.” He winked at Felicity as he pulled $100 from a wad of bills and dropped it into the tip bucket.

She was genuinely speechless as he handed her her drink and put his arm around her waist to guide her toward a tall table in a darkened corner. He took her drink from her hands and placed it, along with his, on the table, and then he turned toward her with no preamble and pulled her toward him by her hips. “So you like to dance, Felicity?”

Felicity’s heart was beating fast and she was caught off guard by his roughness, but she was still feeling wild and angry and horny, albeit for another man, so she smiled coyly and wiggled her hips under his hands, knowing that Oliver was watching. “With the right partner.”

Ciccone grinned, letting his eyes slide down her body while his hands wandered around her hips to squeeze her ass. And that, there, was her limit, she realized. “And that guy before, was he the right partner?”

 _Yes._ Felicity rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. “No.”

“He had some pretty sweet moves, though.”

Felicity pursed her lips, feigning boredom even as her mind was filled with the memory of Oliver’s body against hers. “If you like that sort of thing.” She lifted her eyes to his suggestively, deciding on a course of action that would hopefully move things along. “I prefer dancing that doesn’t take place on a dance floor.” She watched the hungry look intensify in his eyes as he registered her meaning, and she couldn’t quite suppress a shudder as one of his hands worked its way under the slit in her dress, but thankfully he didn’t seem like the type of man who was very in tune with the effect he had on women.

“You wanna get out of here?”

“Yes, but,” she looked down, affecting disappointment, “I made plans with one of my girlfriends tonight, and I have to go put in an appearance.”

“Baby, you can skip it.”

She pouted at him. “I promised. But don’t worry, it shouldn’t take longer than an hour, and I’m so horny for you I’m sure I can cut it down to half an hour.” She gagged inwardly at the utter unbelievability of her words, but Ciccone ate it right up. He pulled her against him, pressing his erection against her stomach, and she fought a strong wave of revulsion, but at least his desperation meant he was likely to agree to her suggestions. “How about you give me your phone and I’ll give you my number and the address where you can pick me up in 45 minutes?”

Instead of waiting for him to agree, she fished his phone out of his pocket, which he seemed to like. She then pulled her phone, and along with it her trojan chip, out of her clutch and unlocked the former and handed it to him. “And you can give me your number, too, if you want.” She smiled innocently, wondering if he would really give her his number. Maybe. These mafia-types were sometimes very careless with their personal tech, as evidenced by the fact that Ciccone’s phone wasn’t even password protected. He probably thought his guns and personal security were protection enough.

In a matter of seconds she’d inserted the chip and programmed some fake contact information into the phone, and then she continued to poke around the phone’s metadata while he (slowly, oh god so slowly) finished putting information into her phone. When she saw he was almost done, she slipped his phone back into his pocket and waited for his attention so she could make her escape.

He handed her phone to her and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her against his body. “Wanna dance before you go?”

Felicity tried to look disappointed. “I’d love to, but you know the sooner I go the sooner we can go be alone.” She really had trouble not gagging on the words. Now that she’d accomplished her goal, she found she almost couldn’t stand to stay in his presence another minute.

“Come on, baby. Just one dance.” He leaned down toward her, and just as Felicity realized he was going to kiss her, he gripped her hair so that she couldn’t turn her head away. He went with tongue right away, forcing his way in, and when she tried to pull back, he followed her.

“Felicity.” Felicity felt a wash of relief at the sound of Oliver’s voice, which also had the happy effect of causing Ciccone to remove his tongue from her mouth, if not his hand from her ass.

Ciccone turned his head toward Oliver, apparently sizing him up.

“Felicity, please.” Felicity met Oliver’s eyes, and they looked wild. Distraught, enraged, and a little afraid. It was too much for her to take in at once.

“The lady said she’s not with you.”

Until that moment, Oliver had only been looking at Felicity, but she saw rage rise to prominence in his eyes as he flicked his gaze to the mobster, and Felicity instantly felt Ciccone’s grip on her loosen significantly. “She _is_ with me.”

“But Felicity said -”

“She’s _mine.”_ He said it with utter finality, and Ciccone immediately dropped his hands from her and stepped back.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. She said….” His words trailed off because Oliver’s focus had shifted entirely back to Felicity.

His eyes were still wild, but now she detected a distinct presence of pleading. He held his hand out to her. “Let’s go home.”

Felicity stood completely still, ice in her spine. Thirty seconds ago she would have gladly walked away with him, but that was before he completely negated her agency - _in her own mission, no less_ \- by invoking a misogynistic code that overtly objectified her. And that less than two hours after she had _explicitly_ expressed her disgust with that code.

“Felicity, please.”

She saw a tiny shift in his eyes and understood, implicitly, that even now he was concerned with what Ciccone thought. That he didn’t want to beg, because doing so would undercut his supposed authority over her. But on the other hand, she knew that the escape he was offering was the easiest, the cleanest, and probably the best for the sake of the mission. And that knowledge really pissed her off. She stood paralyzed by conflicting impulses, unable to look away from Oliver’s stormy eyes.

So she saw it, the flash of understanding, and several other emotions she couldn’t decipher, that preceded a sudden and utter calm conviction. “Felicity. I’m sorry. I know you’re angry with me, you have every right to be.” He nodded, and his eyes flicked over her face, her lips, before locking with hers. “But I love you.” He took a breath as he watched the words hit her. “Please. I love you. Let’s go home.”

Felicity listened to his speech, measuring every word, trying to understand what was true and what was for show. She was certain he was sorry; what she didn’t know was which part he was sorry _about._ But when he told her that he loved her, again, with such calm sincerity, again, and potentially as part of a ploy, again, she still couldn’t help but almost believe him. Again.

It was too much to sort out. Again.

But she reached out and took his hand, let him wrap his arm around her as he guided her through the party, and let him open the car door for her.

“How’d it go?” John’s voice was so normal she could cry.

“Fine.” Her tone put an end to any other questions, and they made the rest of the ride to her condo in silence.

 

* * *

 

 

When the car stopped outside her building, Felicity hopped out of her door, calling goodnight to John over her shoulder. She thought there was some chance that Oliver would let her go, but she was wrong.

She felt him come up behind her as she was unlocking her door. “You shouldn’t keep John waiting. It’s rude.”

“Then I’ll tell him to leave and I’ll get a cab home.”

“Oliver.” She opened her door and stepped through, keeping her hand on the doorknob and her back to him. “Go home.”

“I can’t.”

She turned her head and noticed the empty jewelry case still lying on her console table. “Oh.” She reached up and unhooked the earrings, opening the case and putting them back in their proper hooks.

“Felicity, I didn’t follow you here to collect the jewelry.”

She didn’t reply as she reached up to the clasp at the back of her neck, praying to google that some way, somehow, she’d be able to unhook it on her own. Of course, she couldn’t, and she only jumped a little when Oliver gently pushed her hands away and unclasped it himself. He leaned forward with the necklace in his hands, and she felt his heat at her back as she took the it from him, but he was careful not to touch his chest to her back this time.

He dropped his hands to his sides while she turned and wordlessly placed the diamond necklace back in its case. He was still standing on her doorstep, and she was still just inside the threshold, and her back was still mostly to him.

She heard him take a deep breath. “Look, Felicity, I’m sorry -”

She cut in sharply, “What are you sorry for? Which part? Please, elaborate.”

“Will you look at me?”

She hesitated, then turned slowly to face him. The truth was, she didn’t _want_ to be mad at him. So many things about tonight had been good. Amazing, really. But she was confused. And she really, really didn’t want to get hurt. Not by Oliver.

He was looking at her with those unguarded, vulnerable eyes again, and she knew that whatever emotions he was feeling, he was feeling them deeply. Honestly. And her heart flipped over because she was more certain than ever that she was in love with him. And she understood just how much power that gave him to hurt her.

He took another deep breath, and she read a tiny bit of relief in the flare of his nostrils. “I’m sorry that I doubted your plan.” He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry that I made you think you couldn’t handle it. The truth is, you handled it just fine.” He nodded, his eyes shifting between hers as if he were just now coming to some realization.

Felicity nodded back, encouraging.

“I was watching you, with him, and you were perfect. It was easy, and fast, just like you said.” He glanced down and shook his head as a little laugh escaped his lips, and when he met her eyes again, Felicity was surprised to read pride in them. “You kept your head and you had it handled.” He looked at the ground again, biting his lip and shoving his hands in his pockets.

Felicity felt a sudden and strong urge to take his face between her hands, to make him look at her. But she stopped herself, not knowing if that was what he needed from her.

“But as I was watching you, watching him with you, I just….” He shook his head and then looked up, meeting her eyes squarely with a tiny, self-deprecating smile on his face. “It was me who couldn’t handle it.”

Felicity’s stomach dropped at his confession, not fully understanding what he was saying, but recognizing a complete and unqualified Oliver Queen apology when she heard one. It set her heart racing to know that she was about to be on the receiving end of one.

He was nodding, slowly, continuously, evaluating and affirming each of his words as he spoke them. “I realize now that it was _always_ me who couldn’t handle it, even when you first proposed the plan days ago. And I’m sorry. I undercut you as my partner on the team. I framed the issue as though you were the one who needed protection, but I see now that it was me. It was always me. And I’m sorry I didn’t realize that until it was too late. I’m sorry that I lost my head, that I reacted...badly.” He looked away from her eyes, clearly ashamed of his behavior.

Felicity had been inching toward him as he gave that last speech, until she found herself practically pressed against him, one hand resting on his chest. She lifted her other hand to his face, brushing her fingers over his cheeks and encouraging him to look at her. “Oliver.” His eyes snapped to hers at the sound of her voice.

“Felicity, I’m sorry that my reaction brought out my basest instincts. I’m sorry, for me, that you had to see me like that, and I’m sorry for the position it put you in, having to choose between two bad options. I’m sorry.”

Felicity felt her eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears but looked away quickly and forced them down, refusing to let him see just how touched she was. Just how much it meant to her that he valued her opinion so deeply. So she nodded to let him know she heard him, that she accepted his apology, and when she had herself under control she looked at him squarely. “Thank you.” He was searching her eyes, clearly looking for evidence that she truly meant it, that she truly forgave him, so she smiled, a small, genuine smile. “Oliver, it’s okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

He took a deep breath and released it over several seconds before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tightly against his chest. “Thank you, Felicity.”

She relaxed against him for several long minutes, listening to the steady thrum of his heart. Her head was tucked under his chin and his fingers were idly stroking up and down her arms. And the moment stretched into minutes, and it was like it had been on the dance floor: almost perfect. And he had told her, again, that he loved her, and just like before he’d neglected to address it when given a perfect opportunity to do so. But he also hadn’t taken it back. And the fact that he was standing there on her doorstep said a lot.

Felicity inhaled a deep breath of Oliver scent. “We should probably call you that cab.”

He didn’t lift his head, so she felt his lips move against her hair as he replied, “Oh, did John leave?”

She laughed into his chest. “Oh yeah, long time ago. I told you it was rude to make him wait.”

Oliver made an amused humming sound. “Whoops.”

Felicity decided right then that she could really get used to this softer, snugglier Oliver. She thought for moment. Happier Oliver, really. The realization hit her somewhere deep, and she almost laughed. “It’s okay. After you call him, you can wait in my apartment. I’ll even make you coffee.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

She waited for him to pull away, to take out his phone and make the call, but he seemed content to continue standing there, holding her. And she was content to let him for as long as he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoaaaa dear this one got long. Sorryyyyyy! It really spiraled out of control! But I do hope you like it, because I really like how it came out. :D 
> 
> Next chapter should be shorter, and less angsty? Maybe? Anyway, it's the delicious kind of angst, I hope. Anyway it's late and I'm tired and this took wayyy longer than I thought it would.
> 
> Please comment and kudos if you liked it! *mwah*

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have roughly 8 million other projects to finish, but the muse DEMANDED something simple and sweet. Behold! a trope-tastic thing of fluff. I should be posting a new chapter (or two) every day or so. (It's possible I might get a little side-tracked by 7x12, but we'll see. If we're lucky, we'll all get positively side-tracked by 7x12).
> 
> I'm feeling the blues lately, which unfortunately stifles my creativity and inspiration, but kudos and comments do wonders!


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